Storm & Seduction (Warriors of the Wind Book 2)

by Anna Hackett

  “Why did you separate those women?” she asked.

  So she’d been watching him. He heard curiosity in her voice. “They were infected with Africus’ pride. They were friends and didn’t mean the things they were saying. They were going to hurt each other.”

  The assassin blinked. “A black eye, pulled hair, and wounded prides are worth your time?”

  “I won’t let anyone be hurt by the Tempest Wind. It is my duty to stop him.” Dante’s wind blew up, circling around them.

  She tilted her head. “I can’t work you out, Venti.”

  “I thought you assassins didn’t question your orders, just followed them blindly.”

  Her lips flattened and Dante guessed he’d hit a nerve. “I’ll ask you again. Leave me alone and let me do my job.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  He muttered a curse. “You don’t leave me much choice, assassin.” In a swift move, he wrapped his hands around her waist and tossed her over his shoulder.

  She kicked and beat her hands against his back. “Put me down!”

  He slapped her shapely backside. “I don’t think so.”

  “I will make you pay for this.”

  The venom in her voice made him believe it. But not until he’d taken care of Africus. Dante strode down the street.

  “Where are you taking me?” she demanded.

  “Somewhere I can keep you out of trouble.”

  He heard her spit out a curse in Arabic. He strolled into the Campo de’ Fiori, a beautiful piazza lined by historic buildings. The cafes and wine bars were still busy and a few diners cast startled glances at them.

  A statue dominated the square, the shadowy figure of the monk Giordano Bruno. It stood in the spot where the monk had been burned at the stake for heresy—his captors infected by the vices of the Tempest Winds during one of their rampages.

  It was a reminder to Dante just how important it was that he didn’t fail.

  “Buona sera, Signor Venti.” An eager young doorman held the door to his building open. His white smile was wide as he took in the woman draped over Dante’s shoulder. “A beautiful evening, no?”

  Samia gave another kick and Dante subdued her, his hands biting into the backs of her thighs. “Ciao, Paolo. And yes, it is.”

  “It. Is. Not,” Samia ground out. “Help me. This crazy man has abducted me.”

  The young man smiled. “Dante Venti has no need to kidnap beautiful women. They flock to him like bees to pollen.”

  Samia made a choked, angry sound and Dante gave Paolo a wink. He moved across the elegant foyer and into the elevator. Paolo was still smiling as the elevator doors closed.

  Moments later, Dante strode into the apartment, his boots clicking on the glossy marble tiles. Luca owned the spacious penthouse, and had modernized it without losing the historic charm. Dante didn’t stop in the stylish living room to admire the stunning view of the dome of St. Peter’s framed by the floor-to-ceiling glass windows.

  Suddenly, his tiredness crashed down on him. He continued down the short hall and into the bedroom.

  He dumped Samia on the bed and watched her bounce.

  It was then he noticed a startling fact. As soon as he was no longer touching her, the pride-filled whispers crowded his ears again. They bombarded him with nasty suggestions that a part of him wanted to believe.

  Reaching down, he gripped her arm.

  She tried to jerk out of his hold and kick him.

  He held fast and deflected her kick. The voices dimmed and faded away.

  Incredible. Somehow, touching this woman held the pride at bay.

  ***

  Samia watched Dante looking at her like she’d just smacked him in the side of the head.

  She had no idea what was wrong with him, but she was getting out of here. Out of the corner of her eye, she searched for a weapon. There was nothing in arm’s reach except the silk covers on the big bed.

  She couldn’t believe he’d captured her. She’d made mistakes tonight even an apprentice assassin wouldn’t make. She could picture her father’s tight, disappointed face if he knew.

  All because doubt had wormed its way inside her. She wasn’t sure what was going on with Dante Venti, but until she knew the truth, she sure as hell wasn’t going to kill him in cold blood.

  Samia squeezed her eyes closed, very afraid that she was losing her edge. She’d lost it in the blood of a sixteen-year-old boy, in the doubt and hesitation that filled her. If she couldn’t kill, she’d be tossed out of the Hashshasin. And the brotherhood was all she had.

  Fingers pressed against her cheek and she opened her eyes. Dante’s handsome face was inches from hers. A dark curl had fallen over his forehead, making him look younger. He cupped her jaw, concern in his eyes.

  What if he’s as innocent as that boy? She’d watched from the shadows as he’d pulled apart the fighting women. He hadn’t hurt either of them, or let them hurt each other. What kind of killer did that?

  She knew killers. Hell, she saw one in the mirror every day. Everything inside her was telling her this man wasn’t one.

  Dante shifted and sat beside her. His warm thigh pressed against her leg.

  She felt the air thicken. Damn the man for looking and smelling so good. “If you kill me, they’ll only send another to finish the job.”

  He snorted. “I’m not planning to kill you, Samia.” His gaze turned considering. “They won’t send someone out to find you?”

  She shook her head. “That’s not our way.”

  Dante’s fingers stroked over her hand. “Are you that expendable to them?”

  She glanced up. “Yes.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “I’m just a weapon. The killing machine you accused me of being.” Nothing more, not even to her father.

  Dante’s jaw tightened. “You’re a human being.” His finger skimmed a lock of her hair. “And your eyes are so sad.”

  Samia’s stomach clenched and she turned her head. The man saw too much.

  “Where are you from?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Nowhere.” The brotherhood was based in Morocco, but she traveled the world and didn’t have a home.

  “And what are you, Samia Hassan?”

  She frowned. “You already know I am Hashshasin.”

  He leaned closer. “No, I mean what kind of being.”

  She had no idea what she was, and over the last three months, there were days she wasn’t even sure who she was. One slip of the knife and the identity she’d clung to all her life had slipped away. “My father is human. Born and raised by the brotherhood.”

  “And your mother?”

  Samia dropped her gaze. “I don’t know. I never knew her.”

  “But the Hashshasin have a tradition of breeding with beings of power.” Dante forced her to meet his golden gaze. “You have an exceptional ability to blend into the shadows. Your father must have mentioned what she was.”

  All Samia knew of her mother was that she’d gladly accepted the money Samia’s father had paid her to have sex, give birth, and hand her daughter over without a backward glance. Samia tried to pull away from Dante. “Why is my heritage so important to you?”

  He held her close, intensity burning in his eyes. “Because every time I touch you, I feel the vice that torments me every day fade away.”

  Chapter Four

  At Dante’s tortured confession, Samia’s heart constricted. “What are you talking about?”

  “I fight against pride every day.” His jaw tightened. “Africus makes it echo in my head until I can’t hear anything else.”

  The air in the room sucked away. She searched his face and suddenly saw how tired he looked. Lines of strain bracketed his eyes and mouth.

  He expelled a slow breath. “The Tempest Winds were freed several weeks ago, and my brothers and I have been hunting them ever since.”

  Samia heard the truth vibrate in his voice and she wanted to believe him. “What happens if you
lose the battle with pride?”

  A stark look crossed his face. “Then I become the evil I’m hunting.”

  “How could I possibly calm the vice?”

  “I’m not sure yet, but I have my suspicions.” He scraped a hand down his face. “But right now, I can barely think straight. I’m tired as hell and need some sleep.”

  Samia felt the unfamiliar need to soothe away his pain. To run her fingers over those lines on his tense face and see if they melted away.

  What the—? Her fingers curled into her palm. She’d never comforted anyone. She wouldn’t even know where to start.

  Dante stood and moved over to the dresser. When he turned back, he was holding a long length of rope.

  Her eyes widened. “What is that for?”

  “I brought you here to keep you out of my way and keep you safe.”

  She moved into a crouch on the bed. “You’re going to tie me up?” She shook her head. “Think again, Warrior.”

  He moved fast, but Samia’s reflexes were honed by years of training. She rolled. Dante landed on the bed and she leaped onto his back.

  “Dammit.” He reached an arm back, but Samia landed a hard chop to his arm. He dropped the rope.

  She snatched it and yanked it around his neck. With a growl, he stumbled to his feet and she gripped his back, holding on tight.

  “Don’t…want…to hurt you,” he ground out.

  He spun in a circle and managed to knock her off. Samia landed on the bed again and shot over it, scrambling on her hands and knees.

  A hand snagged her ankle and dragged her backward.

  Her hands twisted on the covers, but before she could do anything else, a heavy body landed on top of hers.

  She froze. He was heavy as hell. Every inch of him had to be hard muscle. His sea-air scent surrounded her.

  “Now, hold still.” He looped the rope around her wrist, testing that it wasn’t too loose or too tight. He reached up and tied her to the ornate metal headboard. “This rope is reinforced so it can hold beings of enhanced strength. You can’t break it.”

  She glared at him. “I’m not planning to kill you…yet. I need to find the truth first.”

  “I can’t let Africus win.” Dante finished tying the knot and lifted off her. He scrubbed a hand over his face and again she noticed how weary he looked. “For now, I just need some sleep.”

  When he stood, Samia tested the binding. The knot was tight and there was no give in the rope. Dammit. Then she looked up and saw he was unbuttoning his white shirt.

  As his sculpted, bronze chest came into view, her eyes widened. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “I told you, I need to sleep.”

  “Here?”

  He shot her a look, shrugging his shirt off. “I’m hardly going to leave the assassin trying to kill me alone.”

  Bronze skin stretched over a hard, ridged abdomen and a light dusting of dark hair covered his pecs. She noticed the wound where she’d stabbed him had already healed. She couldn’t stop herself looking at him. And she couldn’t stop the traitorous curl of warmth in her belly that left her furious at herself.

  He lay down on the bed, stretching out beside her. “I just need some sleep, Samia.”

  “I could smother you in your sleep.”

  He turned his head her way, one dark brow rising. “But you won’t.”

  “I’m an assassin, Venti.”

  “Since we’re sharing a bed, you should call me Dante. And you won’t kill me because you would have killed me already. I know you have an internal sense of honor.” He shoved the pillow under his head, his eyes closing. “Just want to lie here and get some rest. In the morning, I’ll let you go.”

  His words were slurring from exhaustion.

  “Fine, I won’t smother you,” she said.

  A smile tilted his lips. “Grazie.” He released a long breath. “It is so good not to hear the whispers.”

  Because of her. Because she could somehow help him.

  She listened to his breathing even out, and stared at the shadows wavering on the ceiling.

  When was the last time she’d helped instead of destroyed? She believed in the work of her brotherhood…they hunted the beasts and evil that might otherwise get out of control and kill.

  But she worked alone, at the orders of her brotherhood. When she was back at the enclave, she trained. Her father was the head of training and expected more from his daughter.

  She watched some of the stress leave Dante’s face. Samia needed to find the truth, once and for all.

  ***

  Dante woke feeling relaxed. The bedroom was still dark and he wasn’t certain what had woken him. He’d had the best damn few hours sleep he’d had in a long time.

  He heard the tapping of computer keys and blinked. He jerked up and his left arm wrenched.

  He looked over and saw his wrist was tied to the headboard.

  What the fuck? He looked over and saw Samia sitting on the loveseat by the window, her face illuminated from the screen of his laptop.

  He glared at the rope and then her. “How did you get out of the rope?”

  She didn’t even look up. “Super assassin skills. I’d tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

  He snorted. “A little assassin humor. Cute.” He yanked and the rope broke. He’d ensured it was strong enough for many supernatural beings but not strong enough to hold him. He stalked over to her. “How did you get into my computer? It’s password protected.”

  She flicked a glance up to him. “I’m not only skilled with a knife. I have a few handy hacking skills, too.”

  He dropped down beside her. “What are you looking up?”

  “The Tempest Winds. I accessed some secret Hashshasin databases.” She let out a slow breath. “I believe you, Dante. About Africus and the rest of the Winds. About the Warriors of the Wind. Africus has duped the Hashshasin and brought shame to my brotherhood.”

  This close to her, his head was completely clear of pride. He still couldn’t believe her presence calmed the vice. Her jasmine scent worked into his senses. She’d kicked her shoes off and his gaze drifted over her bare feet. Her toenails were painted soft pink.

  Desire punched through him, hot and hard, and his body tightened painfully. But he pushed it back. “If I don’t stop Africus, if my brothers and I can’t defeat the Tempest Winds, the world is in terrible danger.” His voice took on an edge. “They will start in Italy, then spread their infection across Europe, across the world.” Horrific memories of the past flashed behind Dante’s eyelids—good people driven to do gruesome acts, families destroyed, lives lost.

  “How can you stop them?”

  “Once we release them from their human bodies, my brothers and I can lock them away with a vicious storm. Their prison is an island near Sicily, Isola del Vento. Their warden is my brother Lorenzo, the Keeper of the Winds.”

  “He sounds formidable.”

  Dante smiled. “He is a brooding loner who is damn good at his job. Well, he used to be a brooding loner. A feisty little horse trainer cornered him and he’s fallen in love now.” Lorenzo in love. It still boggled Dante’s mind. Of all his brothers, he would have picked Lorenzo or Luca to be the last to succumb.

  Samia shifted and set the laptop down. “What will happen if the Tempest Winds succeed?”

  Dante hoped none of them would ever have to find out. “In rage, brother will kill brother. In lust, friend will rape friend. In greed, parent will steal from child. In pride, neighbor will turn on neighbor.” He pressed his hand over hers, caught for a moment by how smooth her skin was. “I have to be strong enough to stop it.”

  Silence wrapped around them. “I understand. That’s why the Hashshasin exist. From the time we can walk, we’re taught every possible way to take a life. We hone those skills with daily combat. We hunt the evil too powerful for humans to stop.”

  Both of them existed for the same purpose. But he had grown up raised with love. Even after his parents
had died, his uncles and their families had taken them in. And Dante had always had his brothers.

  Who did Samia have? She was given orders and sent out alone. “Do you like killing?”

  “I’m good at it.”

  He detected something in her voice. “But do you like it?”

  “I…I used to believe in what I do.”

  Dante moved a little closer to her. “What changed?”

  “I killed an innocent boy.” Her words were blank, empty of emotion.

  Here was what put the sadness in her eyes. “Tell me.”

  She inhaled a slow breath. “His father was a man who dabbled with powerful magic, using it to seduce women. He’d become a serial rapist and killer. I was sent to stop him.”

  Dante tangled his fingers with hers, feeling tension pumping off her. “What happened?”

  “The boy leaped in front of his father, to defend him. I couldn’t stop.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “My father told me that one innocent life to save hundreds was worth it.” Her voice turned to a whisper. “Collateral damage.”

  Bastardo. Her father sounded like the Hashshasin Dante had heard about. Hard, cold, fanatics to their cause. “Hurting the innocent is never necessary.”

  “I see that boy’s eyes in my head every time I try to sleep. I haven’t killed since I took his life. I’ve tried.”

  “I know.”

  She gave a hiccupping laugh, then her voice sobered. “I wanted to kill again because I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t know how to be anything else.”

  He slid his hand up and rubbed her arm. “You have a choice, Samia. To find what and who you want to be.”

  Her dark gaze met his. “You’re more powerful than any being I’ve been sent after. I know you can stop Africus.”

  Dante gave a humorless laugh. “Forever fighting the nature of what’s inside me, the temptation to embrace it…it makes me feel weak.”

  She reached up and cupped his hard jaw. “The fact that you keep fighting makes you strong.”

  He covered her hand with his and they stared at each other. He felt a connection pull tight between them. He cleared his throat. “We should get some more sleep.” He pulled his gaze off her, looking out into the night-drenched streets. “Dawn will be here soon and Africus will be quieter during the day. He’s been muddying his scent trail, and leaving false tracks all over the city. I have to stop him. I need to hunt him down.”